The Lawyer's Wallet
by yellowrose900
Summary: When a Lawyer and Neal clash, Neal decides to pick the man's pocket for revenge.  But when the wallet reveals secrets about the Lawyer's criminal life, the FBI must bring him to justice. WARNING:  Contains the disciplinary spanking of an adult male.
1. Chapter 1

The Lawyer's Wallet

Summary: When a Lawyer and Neal clash, Neal decides to pick the man's pocket to aggravate the man. But when the wallet reveals secrets about the Lawyer's criminal life, the FBI must bring him to justice. WARNING: Contains the disciplinary spanking of an adult male.

Disclaimer: I am not connected to the show in any way, I just write for entertainment.

Note: Set around the beginning of the second season, I guess.

/

/

Neal walked out of June's and saw Peter's car parked in front. He opened the door and slid inside.

"Morning, Peter." He greeted.

"Morning."

"What's the new case?" Neal wanted to know. Peter had called him twenty minutes before and told him to get ready. Since it was a Saturday and they were supposed to have had the day off, Neal had still been in bed.

"Stolen Ming vase, worth over a quarter of a million dollars."

"Museum?"

"No, it was a home invasion."

"The Ming the only thing stolen?"

"Yes."

"Whose home?"

"Tim Dresser."

"Peter, no." Neal said, with pleading eyes. "Can't Jones and Diana handle this one?"

"No." Peter couldn't help but smile slightly at the younger man's discomfort.

"Peter, he doesn't like me. He has tried to have me convicted of art thief twice."

"So."

"So, I didn't steal either painting."

Peter gave him a sideways glance, but said nothing.

"I swear I didn't steal them." Neal insisted. "One of his wealthy clients probably did and tried to pin it on me."

"Cowboy up." Peter said.

Neal sighed and then sulked the rest of the ride, which only lasted a few more minutes. Peter parked his car in front of a large three story house and the two men got out and walked to the door.

Before they could knock, the door was opened by a middle aged woman in a maid's uniform. She led them into Dresser's home office, where the man was sitting at a large desk.

"Mr. Dresser." Peter said. "I am Agent Peter Burke, and I think you know Neal Caffrey."

"Of course." Dresser said, standing up and approaching the men. He was in his late fifties with thinning gray hair. He looked at Neal in disgust. "Why the FBI would want a common thief working with them is beyond me."

"I am not common." Neal said, with a smile.

Peter shot the younger man a warning look.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Peter asked.

"I came home and noticed that the dining room window was broke, and that the alarm system had been disabled. I phoned the police and then searched my house, I discovered the vase missing."

"Who all knew about the vase, and its value?" Neal asked.

"Must I converse with him?" Dresser asked Peter.

"Just answer the question." Peter said.

"Many people knew, I purchased it at a public action last week."

"How was the alarm disabled?" Peter asked.

Cut at the control box outside, someone picked the lock." He looked at Neal.

"I have an alibi." Neal said, getting really tired of the man.

"If the prosecuting attorney had done his job correctly, then your alibi would have been that you were in prison."

"The prosecuting attorney didn't have a case; I did not steal those paintings."

"Then who did?"

"My guess would be one of your clients."

"That it….."

"Hey!" Peter snapped.

"I demand that this thief leave." Dresser said, spat out.

"Neal, wait for me in the car." Peter said.

"Peter, I…." Neal started, but Peter grabbed his arm and led him a few feet away.

"Wait for me in the car." He repeated, his voice left no room for argument. Neal stalked from the house.

He couldn't believe Peter took Dresser's side over his, couldn't believe that Peter thought he stole the paintings. But why wouldn't he think that? Neal was a master thief. He had stolen many things. But he thought Peter was able to look beyond that now.

Neal was sitting in the car, staring out the window when Peter climbed back in behind the steering wheel.

"You can't let Dresser get to you." Peter said.

Neal turned and looked the older man in the eyes, surprised not to find his eyes glaring at him. "I didn't steal those two paintings."

"I know."

"You do?" Neal asked in confusion. "How?"

"You can look anyone in the eye and lie though your teeth." Peter said. "Except for a very few people. I'm one of those people. I know you don't tell me everything, and let me assume things that are not true. But like you once told me, you have never told me an out right lie."

"And I never will." Neal promised.

"I know."

"So what's the plan?" Neal asked with a smile. It felt really good to have someone like Peter who trusted him.

"The plan is for you to lay off of Dresser."

"But he…."

"Neal, I know he's a jerk. But the next time he starts, just walk away."

"But…."

"Neal." Peter growled.

"Fine." The younger man pouted.

"And stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

/

/

A few hours later, Peter and Neal were in Peter's office. Peter was on the phone with the forensics team. He hung up and then stood and grabbed his jacket.

"They found prints on the security lock box?" Neal asked, also standing and grabbing his jacket.

"Yeah, Carl Richards."

"Who's he?"

"Small time thief, I've arrested him a couple times for trying to fence stolen items."

"So I'm assuming you know where to look for him."

"Oh yeah, a hole in the wall bar called Jack's Beer Pit."

"I'm guessing they don't serve wine."

"You guessed right."

"I hope he has the vase, I want this case over with."

"Just remember." Peter said. "Do not let Dresser bait you, just ignore him."

"That's hard to do."

"I know, but do it anyway." Peter looked Neal in the eyes and said in a stern voice "And do not, in any way, try to pay him back for his behavior."

"I wasn't planning on doing anything." Neal said.

"Okay, but I know you Neal. I know you have a habit of pulling some boneheaded and childish stunt that's designed to humble people like Dresser."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Last week when we were investigating the theft at that posh jewelry store, then one with the owner that asked if you had an alibi. I saw you rearranging the jewels in the case that he had just said took him hours to arrange properly."

"You saw that?"

"Yes I saw that, and I let it slide. But no more. Anymore stunts like that and you will not like the consequences. Understand?"

"Yes." Neal mumbled, clearly not happy about it.

/

/

"I'm telling you." Carl Richards said, as he downed another shot of whiskey. "It was a piece of cake." He picked up the vase on the bar and laughed. "I am now a very wealthy man."

He turned his head when he heard the front door opening, then his face went pale when he saw Agent Peter Burke. He replaced the vase on the table and bolted towards the back.

"Stop Carl!" Peter shouted, but the man kept running. Peter ran after him.

Neal started to follow, then saw the bartender picking up the vase.

"It can't be that easy." Neal said to himself, walking over to the bar.

"What have you got there?" Neal asked.

"That clown that just ran out claims this thing is worth a lot of money." The bartender shook his head. "Probably ain't worth over fifty bucks."

"I'll give you a hundred."

"Sure."

The bartender quickly grabbed the hundred dollar bill that Neal held out, it didn't bother him at all that the vase wasn't his to sell.

"Now I get Dresser out of my life again." Neal smiled.

"Thank you so much for the help, Neal." A very winded Peter said, as he walked over with a cuffed Carl Richards.

"Look what I just bought for a hundred dollars." Neal smiled, holding up the vase.

"Is it the real one?" Peter wanted to know.

"Yes."

"Damn this was easy."

"I know."

"I want a lawyer." Richards said.

The three men walked out of the bar.

"Hey Peter, the bureau is going to reimburse me. Right?"

"Depends." Peter said. "Where did you get the hundred bucks?"

"Never mind."

"Neal."

"What?"

"Where did you get the money?"

"From my pocket."

"And where was it before it was in your pocket?"

"Tip jar on the bar."

"Neal!" Peter hissed. Then he got a confused look. "Who would tip a hundred bucks at a bar like that?"

"Probably someone who had a few too many beers." Neal replied.

"Didn't give you the right to steal it." Peter pointed out.

"Come on, Peter." Neal said. "The bartender had no right selling a vase that wasn't his."

Peter sighed and hook his head, but said nothing.

/

/

An hour later, Dresser walked into the bureau and directly over to Peter and Neal. The two men were standing by Neal's desk.

"You have my vase?" Dresser asked.

"Yes." Peter said. "Right now it is evidence, but we will return it soon."

"Just do not let Caffrey anywhere near it." Dresser said, once again giving Neal a disgusted look.

"It was Neal that found the vase." Peter said, getting real annoyed at the man.

"That's because he was probably in on it." Dresser said.

Neal stepped in front of the man and they were standing toe to toe, each glaring a the other one.

"Admit you arranged for those paintings to be stolen." Neal said. "Or that one of your clients stole them, so you tried to pin it on me."

"That is ridiculous."

"That is the truth."

"Back off Neal." Peter said, grabbing the younger man's arm and pulling him away.

"Yeah, Caffrey." Dresser taunted. "You better listen to your handler."

Neal started to walk towards Dresser again, but Peter still had a hold on his arm.

"Back off Neal." Peter whispered. "I mean it."

Neal nodded and Peter let go.

"I need some fresh air." The younger man said.

He turned and walked out of the room and out of the building. Once he was a block away, a small smile formed on his lips. Neal reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out Dresser's wallet and car keys.

"Time for a little fun." Neal said. "I think he would look good driving around in a pink car." He went trough the wallet and pulled out a credit card. "This will do nicely."

/

/

What do you think? I will have more posted as soon as I can.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour later, Neal was smiling at the site of a hot pink Lamborghini. The car had once been blue. Neal couldn't resist the urge to purchase pink fuzzy dice and hang them from the rear view mirror, or Barbie floor mats. And of course, he used the cash inside of Dresser's wallet; after all, it was for Dresser's car.

He checked his watch; he figured that Dresser would be busy with paperwork inside the bureau for another couple hours. So he tried to decide what to do next. He knew that Dresser couldn't prove he did it, Neal was very careful not to leave a connection to himself.

But he also knew that Peter would figure out it was him, and that he would have to answer to the older man. That thought brought a grimace to his handsome face; he really didn't want to face Peter. He knew what the end result would be; him bent over a table while Peter spanked him.

But Neal couldn't stop himself, besides, it was worth it. Maybe. With a smile, Neal climbed behind the wheel of the car and headed for a flower nursery that was nearby. Once there, he walked over to the pretty sales clerk.

"Can I help you?" She smiled.

"I sure hope so." Neal said, returning the smile. "A friend of mine is planting a huge garden, and he asked me to pick up a couple bags of fertilizer for him."

"You've came to the right place."

"Problem is." Neal said, leaning a littler closer to the woman. "I don't remember the kind he said to get. All I know is that it really smells bad." He wrinkled his nose. "Horrible smell."

"I think I know just what he wants." The woman said, leading him over to a pile of fertilizer sacks. Even through the plastic bags, Neal could smell a strong odor.

"I do believe you are right." Neal said.

Neal bought two large bags, with Dresser's money. Then he empted both bags into the trunk of the car.

"Now to return everything." Neal said, going through Dresser's wallet. He found a folded piece of paper, and pulled it out. He read it, and then re-read it.

"I knew he was crooked." Neal said to himself. "Wait till Peter sees this." Then the smile disappeared as he realized that he would have to turn himself in if he showed Peter the paper.

Neal sighed and started the engine. He planned on returning the car and the wallet, minus the piece of paper. Then talk to Peter, he knew the older man would find out what he had done anyway.

Neal drove back to the bureau and parked the car exactly where Dresser had left it, then he went inside. He saw Dresser and walked passed him, slipping the wallet and keys back into his pocket. Then he headed for Peter's office.

Peter was sitting at his desk, when Neal walked in.

"Are you calmer?" Peter asked.

"Yes." Neal said, sitting down. "Peter, I have a confession."

"What did you do?" Peter asked in trepidation.

"Before I tell you, I want you to promise me that you will listen to the whole story before you say anything."

"What did you do?"

"Promise me Peter."

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm. He did not like the sound of this. He opened his eyes and was about to again ask the younger man what he done, when Hughes stormed into the room and glared at Neal.

"Sir." Peter said. "What's wrong?"

"You have exactly one second to convince me not to throw you back in prison." Hughes said to Neal, ignoring Peter's question.

"I….I was about to confess to Peter." Neal said, a little worried. Hughes was really mad.

"There is no excuse for this, Caffrey." Hughes said. "I don't care how smart you are, or how many cases you help us clear. I will not tolerate this behavior. This is an FBI bureau, not a school yard. And you are an adult, not a child. In the real world, adults solve their differences with people by talking, not by playing childish and illegal practical jokes."

"I'm sorry, Sir." Neal said, actually meaning it. He felt foolish now, he knew Hughes was right.

"What did you do?" Peter asked once again.

"He stole Dresser's car." Hughes said, still glaring at Neal. "Had it painted pink and put fertilizer in his trunk."

"Neal." Peter hissed.

"Dresser is pissed." Hughes said. "He wants you arrested."

"He has no proof I did it." Neal said, his voice uncertain.

"Damn it, Neal." Peter said.

"I will try to calm him down." Hughes said. "You go home and stay there, consider yourself under house arrest."

"I need to tell you something first." Neal said. "I also stole his wallet."

"You what! Hughes shouted.

"This was inside it." He handed the angry older man the paper.

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"A list of stolen paintings and buyers." Hughes said, as he scanned the paper. "These are the paintings that were stolen from the children's hospital charity drive last month."

"Too bad we can't use it in court." Peter said, glaring at Neal.

"Go home." Hughes said.

"But." Neal started, but Peter cut him off.

"Now, Neal." Peter said.

Neal stood and quickly left.

"That kid's going to make what little hair I have left fall out." Hughes said.

"He's the reason I'm getting grey hair." Peter agreed. "But we can't let him go back to prison."

"We've solved a few cases before he started working with us." Hughes pointed out.

"I know Sir."

"You really like him, don't you?"

"Yes Sir. He's annoying, obstinate, and a royal pain in the neck. But he's a good man, a good friend."

"Yeah." Hughes agreed. "I can placate Dresser, and we can find a way to get those paintings back and arrest Dresser. But I expect Caffrey to be punished severely for this."

"He will be."

"Go on and take the rest of the day off, be here first thing in the morning. Jones and Diana should have a file on all of the buyers by then."

/

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Neal was sitting on his couch, deep in thought, when the loud knocking on his door caused him to jump. He slowly stood and walked to the door.

As soon as the door was opened, Peter walked in. He still looked very angry.

"Why?" Peter asked.

Neal didn't answer, he just looked downward. He had been trying to answer that question for the past hour. All of the answers he came up with sounded stupid.

"Would irritating Dresser be worth going back to prison?" Peter asked. "Because that could have happened, it almost did happen."

"I didn't think." Neal admitted.

"Obviously."

"What now?"

"Now, I teach you never to do something this childish again."

"And then?"

"Then we prove that Dresser is a criminal and get those paintings back."

Neal knew he was in deep trouble, and knew that he was about to be in pain. But he couldn't help but smile slightly. "We're still partners?"

"Of course." Peter's voice softened some. "But you have got to start thinking before pulling these stunts. Your actions have consequences."

"I know."

"Go get me that large wooden spoon that you have in the jar on the back of the stove."

"Huh?" Neal asked in confusion.

"This stunt was childish, so you will be punished like a child." Peter said, sitting down in a straight-backed dinning room chair.

"You have got to be kidding." Neal's face went slightly pale. "You can't really be planning on me laying across your lap."

"That is exactly what I plan on happening." Peter said sternly. "No do what I said."

"But…"

"Neal. You are in enough trouble as it is, do not make it worse."

Neal slowly walked over to the stove and picked up the spoon, gulping softly. Then he walked over to the older man and handed it to him.

"Drop the pants."

"Peter."

"Now."

Neal unbuttoned his pants and let them slide to the floor. Peter took his arm and guided him over his lap. Neal placed his palms and feet on the floor to brace himself. He couldn't believe he was about to get a spanking over Peter's lap.

Peter wrapped an arm around Neal's waist, then raised his other hand and brought the spoon down hard onto Neal's boxer clad bottom. Neal tried to remain quiet as the spoon repeatedly landed on his butt, but soon found himself squirming. He never would have thought a wooden spoon could hurt so much.

Peter held on tighter when the younger man started squirming, but didn't slow down the rain of smacks.

Soon, Neal felt tears running down his cheeks and his butt felt as if it was fire. The spoon didn't have the sharp sting of Peter's belt, but it still hurt a lot.

Peter stopped briefly, for just enough time to lower one of his knees and raise the other. Then he started smacking Neal's sit spots, causing him to cry louder.

"Please stop." Neal cried out, kicking his legs.

"Stay still." Peter said, sternly as he slapped the spoon down three times on each upper thigh. Neal cried out with each lick, but stilled his legs.

"No more, Peter." Neal cried.

"I am going to make sure you remember this lesson, Neal." Peter said, sadly. He hated doing this to Neal, hated causing him pain. But he knew that with Neal, this method worked. And he would rather have Neal sitting uncomfortably for a few days, rather then having him sent back to prison.

"No more picking pockets." Peter said, then smacked each upper thigh twice. "No more pulling childish pranks because someone makes you mad." Two hard swats to each butt cheek.

By this time, Neal was sobbing. Peter dropped the spoon onto the floor and started to gently rub Neal's back.

"It's okay, Neal." Peter said, softly. "It's over."

Neal stayed over Peter's lap for a few more moments, then he slowly stood up. He didn't even want to think about pulling his pants up over his throbbing backside, so he kicked them the rest of the way off.

"Get some rest." Peter said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be by early in the morning to pick you up."

Neal nodded and slowly walked over to his bed, his throbbing backside making the short walk painful. Peter followed him over to the bed and helped the younger man lay down on his stomach. Then Peter pulled a quilt over him and gently ruffled his hair.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Peter." Neal said, his voice thick.

"Night Neal."

/

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TBC

Please let me know what you think. I will have the last chapter posted soon, maybe in a couple hours but it might be tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Early the next morning, Neal was really dreading the car ride to work. But he was ready to go when Peter arrived.

"Change of plans." Peter said, as he walked into Neal's room. "Hughes had a talk with Dresser again this morning, and came up with a way to prove it was him that had the paintings stolen."

"What's the plan?" Neal wanted to know, really hoping it did not involve him sitting down. His butt was still sore.

"Hughes convinced Dresser not to press charges against you, since you were the main subject in a string of art thefts. Including those stolen from the charity. And that we should have enough evidence to obtain a search warrant this afternoon."

"So we just stay here and wait for someone to break in and plant evidence." Neal smiled. "Nice plan."

"You and Diana are in the van, Jones and I will be in here."

"Do I have to be in the van?" Neal asked. He hated the van. And his room had nice soft pillows to sit on while they waited.

"Yes." Peter answered. "You are in the van."

Neal sighed.

"Cowboy up." Peter told him. "Sitting in the van will reinforce last night's lesson."

"Trust me, Peter." Neal said. "I do not need that lesson to be reinforced."

"You're still in the van."

/

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An hour later, Neal and Diana were in the surveillance van parked across the street from June's. Diana was sitting in front of the monitors, and Neal was standing behind her.

"It could be a long wait." Diana said. "Might as well sit down."

"I'm fine standing." Neal smiled.

Diana nodded, but said nothing. But Neal caught a slight glimpse of a smirk on her face before she re-focused on the monitors. He really hoped she didn't know why he preferred to stand, surly Peter didn't tell her. Did he?

Several long minutes passed.

"Aren't your legs getting tired?" Diana asked, and Neal was positive this time that she was smirking.

"You know?" He asked, turning red.

"Know what?" She asked innocently.

"Peter told you?" Neal wasn't sure if he felt more embarrassed or angry. How could Peter tell anyone? He knew Elizabeth knew, and he was fine with that. June and Mozzie knew, and he was fine with that as well. But he didn't want anyone else to know, especially Diana.

"Relax." She said. "Peter didn't tell me anything; I figured it out all on my own."

"Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. But Jones and Hughes already know."

"What?" Neal asked, not quite able to keep his voice from squeaking.

"Hughes knows, because Peter told him." She explained. Feeling a little bad about embarrassing him. "To get him to agree to let Peter handle your punishment, instead of going through official channels."

"And you and Jones?"

"We know because we've been there before."

"What?" Neal asked in surprise.

"You think you're the only one who the Boss man has ever spanked?" Diana asked.

"I never would have guessed that you and Jones get spanked by Peter."

"We don't."

"But you….."

"I said we've been there, not we are there." She said. "Unlike you, we learned quickly. Peter has not had to spank either one of us in years."

"He hasn't?"

"No."

"When was the last time?" Neal was curious. "What did you do?"

"About three years ago." She said. "I went into a warehouse full of armed suspects without waiting for backup. Peter was not happy about that."

"I'm sure he wasn't." Neal said. "He doesn't like it when people take unnecessary risks."

"No he doesn't."

"How about Jones?" Neal wanted to know.

"About a month before my last one." Diana said. Then she smiled and said. "We both got in trouble a couple months after being assigned to Peter's team. We were rookies, but eager to learn. We were both impressed with Peter, with his reputation. We both wanted him to be impressed with us, so we tried our best to one up the other. Peter likes a good competition, says it makes you sharp. But we carried it too far and almost let the bad guys slip away with a priceless painting."

"I'm sure Peter wasn't impressed with that." Neal said.

"No, he wasn't." Diana said, the smile gone. "He was pretty upset. He gave us a choice. A spanking or official channels, we both chose the first one. I was waiting outside a conference room and heard Peter spanking Jones, and I heard Jones' reactions. I didn't want a spanking, so I came up with a plan. I wasn't proud of it, but I was desperate. When it was my turn, I played the I'm a girl card."

"You played the I'm a girl card?" Neal asked in surprise.

"Yes. I told Peter that I was not as strong as Jones and that he had a much higher pain tolerance then I did."

"And Peter told you to cowboy up, or rather cowgirl up."

"No." Diana said. "Peter told me that I was correct and he gave me five weak licks with his belt. It stung a little, but not much. I thought I was pretty smart, until I saw the look that Jones gave me when I walked out. I felt horrible the rest of the day, watching Jones trying to find a comfortable position at his desk.

Then the next morning, we were handed a new case. Peter started handing out assignments. Jones and him were going undercover and I was to stay at the office and do the paperwork and research, all day long. It was a fairly simple case and we were ready to make an arrest that night, an arrest that I was told was too dangerous for me."

Neal laughed out loud. "That sounds like Peter, turning your words around like that."

"The next morning, I was once again assigned paperwork only. I asked Peter to join me in a conference room, then I locked the door and bent over the table. I told Peter that I had learned my lesson and that I would never pull that card again, and he wore my butt out as hard as he had Jones'."

Neal was about to say something, but a movement on the monitors stopped him. "Take a look." He nodded towards the screen. They watched as a man broke into a side window of June's house.

"Hey Boss, someone just entered through a downstairs window."

"Come on in, have Neal wait in the van and watch the monitors."

"On my way, Boss."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Diana left the van and jogged across the street, pulling out her gun as she did.

/

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Peter and Jones were in Neal's room sitting on the sofa, when Diana told them about the intruder. They quickly hid and waited. A few moments later, they heard the door open and saw a man enter, caring a painting. They watched as he hid the painting under Neal's bed.

Peter nodded to Jones, and they both jumped out and aimed their guns at the intruder.

"FBI!" Peter shouted.

The man turned and started to run out the door, but Diana was standing there also aiming a gun at him. He raised his hands in the air.

"Who hired you?" Peter asked, as Jones cuffed the man.

"I want a deal."

"We'll see."

"A man named Dresser, he got me off on a burglar charge. He came to me early this morning and asked me to do him a little favor."

"Can you prove it?" Peter asked.

"I can tell you where the other paintings are, Dresser's there now."

/

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Dresser was sound asleep, when he heard loud banging on his front door. He got out of bed and was halfway down the stairs, when he heard his housekeeper talking to someone. He groaned when he recognized the voices, it was Peter, Diana, Jones, and Neal.

"Sorry to wake you." Peter said, as the man slowly walked down the rest of the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" Dresser asked.

"We have a search warrant." Peter said, handing the man a sheet of paper. Several agents spread through out the large house and started searching.

"Found something Agent Burke." One of the agents said. Peter walked over and found the remaining stolen paintings.

"Looks like you're the one who needs a good lawyer." Neal said. "Know of any?"

/

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THE END

Sorry it took longer then I thought to finish this chapter. I had a little bit of trouble wording Neal and Diana's conversation. I hope you like it.


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